Go ahead.  Admit it.  We’ve all done it.
What writer hasn’t entered a writing contest of some kind?  From Fiction.com to Wergle Flomp, writing contests can show us the good, the bad, and the downright ugly of our writing peers.  Having judged, and run, a statewide literary contest for three years, I think I’ve probably seen it all—including the 50 page manuscript without a single punctuation mark.

Ever wonder what happens to your contest entry after you click that infamous Send button, or drop your carefully measured 1-inch margin pages in media mail? 

In many cases, it gets thrown in the recycle bin before the first page is even read.  Here’s why:

1)      Entrants choosing not to read the submissions guidelines.
To many writers, this is the most obvious piece of advice they’ve ever heard.  What could be easier—reading exactly what the judging committee is looking for and doing a quick scan of your manuscript to make sure it fits the guidelines?  And yet, more entrants get disqualified for simple technicalities.  Think it doesn’t matter if you use italics instead of underlines?  Or if you use “their” instead of “there?”  Think again.  Personally, I’ve disqualified entries for being too long, not being formatted correctly, not being edited in the slightest, printing their name on every page, and so on. 

If you think that’s harsh, think of this: why should authors that don’t bother to read the rules get rewarded for their lackadaisical behavior?  And why should authors who took the time to read and reformat have to compete against those too lazy to follow the same simple guidelines? 

Likewise, why should judges volunteering their skills and energy waste time on the former?  Answer: they don’t.

2)      Know what you’re submitting.
Entering a contest looking for the next great space western-romance crossover?  Then why submit your manuscript about rabid squirrels attacking an African village?  Many literary contests have a theme.  They don’t hide it from you.  It’s usually posted right at the top of the submissions guidelines.  Folks running writing contests want people to enter, but do not want to sort through manuscripts that aren’t remotely related to their theme.  If they want chick lit, don’t send in your 250,000-word nonfiction manifesto about the Crimean War.  And if they only ask for a set number of pages, please only send the requested amount. 

3)      Have the funds to back it up.
Another surprising find is how many people enter literary competitions that require a fee, and don’t send the check, don’t sign the check, or bounce the check when the literary contest committee goes to deposit it.  I’ve encountered all three—including someone who changed banks only days after sending her entry.

Smaller literary contests might be kind and email you about it, giving you a chance to correct any problems.  However, larger contests (say, the Writers Digest competitions) deal with upwards of 12,000 entries.  They do not have the time or manpower to track you down and make sure you’ve handled your finances correctly.  A blank, missing, or invalid check equals a one-day ticket to the slush pile.

Also keep in mind that if your entry is deemed ineligible for whatever reason (i.e., not following the published guidelines), the contest committee reserves the right to keep your entry fee, even if they don’t judge your manuscript.  Think that’s not fair?  Follow the rules, and you won’t have a problem.

4)      Emailing the judging committee.
Even the most thorough submissions guidelines will have loopholes or unclear rules.  If there is something you genuinely don’t understand (like if the contest judges want their entries bound, but don’t specify staple or saddle-stitched), by all means send a polite, professional email.  Many times, the literary contest committee will be grateful that you spotted an inconsistency and will correct it right away. 

This doesn’t mean that you should question them about information clearly written in the guidelines, though.  If the rules call for single-sided, unbound, double-spaced, Arial font, please don’t send an email asking if Courier or Times is acceptable.  If it’s not written in the guidelines, odds are the answer is No.

5)      Responding with dignity and grace.
This goes for during, as well as after, the contest.  If you happen to receive an email from the literary committee, asking you to resubmit your entry for some reason, do it!  They wouldn’t waste their limited time contacting you if they genuinely weren’t trying to help you succeed in your writing.  Most of the time, they’ll be upfront about the problem, such as your pages not being numbered, or printing your name on the pages when the submissions guidelines specifically state not to do that.  By arguing with the committee, or even claiming your manuscript is perfect the way it is, they only thing you’ll succeed in is getting your manuscript thrown out, your check being deposited anyway, and you making a bad name for yourself.  Don’t kid yourself that people working on different literary contests don’t talk to each other.  We do.  And stories of “problem children” get around. 

Likewise, a few lit contests send you the judges’ feedback on your story after the winners are announced.  The amount of work that goes into preparing detailed commentary like this is staggering.  So it behooves you, as a writer, to not send back a scathing email, denouncing the judges, the contest, the chairman’s mother, etc.  Writing is a business.  Would you talk to you boss like that?  Why not be the bigger person and maturely decide whether to incorporate the feedback being freely given, into your work before writing it off?

            This all works when submitting to agents and publishers, too.  You’ve taken months, even years, to perfect your manuscript.  Why waste all that hard work because of a few simple, easy-to-avoid mistakes?  Don’t destroy your chances before the judges even get a chance to read your material.  Show that you’re “in the know,” and soon, you’re story will be the one on top of the Yes! pile.